What Could Have
by ZeloraNDZ
Summary: In which Thomas couldn't quite move on from Newt's death.


The night, if Thomas could simply describe it, was a beauty. The stars and galaxies were lining the sky like the drops and brushes of paint. The waves rustles softly through the beach and not far from the shore was a silent gigantic ship, uninhabited, its purpose already fulfilled. The moonlight shone from up above, illuminating the huts behind and the trees that was further into the island.

Thomas could just hear the snores of the sleeping forms under those handmade roofs.

"I read your letter." The boy muttered out.

Thomas felt the sand dig in into the palms of his hands, cold and unforgiving. He stared at the dark horizon with empty eyes. Eyes not searching and looking, but lost. Sitting cross-legged on the beach, with his hands stretched out behind to support his weight, at what was probably an hour after midnight, didn't actually seem to be an appealing idea for Thomas.

But Newt was here and Thomas couldn't let go of this chance.

"Did you, Tommy?"

Thomas could see the small waves of water gliding across the surface of the ocean, moving around quietly, as if lulling any creatures awake to sleep. Another gentle wave crashes onto the sand and bits of water were splashed onto Thomas and his companion.

Newt appeared to be healthy, uninjured and calm. He didn't look infected or crazed. When Thomas turned his head to look at his friend again, he realized that Newt was still wearing WICKED's guard uniform, the one he was wearing when he died.

"You said I deserve to be happy." Thomas spoke again.

Newt hummed in response as he tilted his head up to stare at the night sky.

"I don't think I deserve to."

His next statement was met with silence. Thomas tore his eyes away from his friend to look back onto the horizon. This time, his whole being was radiating with sadness and guilt. He swallowed the bile rising up to his throat and pulled back the tears that threaten to spill once more. Newt still didn't reply.

Moments passed before Thomas could regain his composure. Once he did, feebly, he asked, "Why are you here, Newt?"

Newt brought his head down, no longer staring at the stars, his eyes trailed to meet Thomas'.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

It was at the moment when those words were uttered out that the heaviness that Thomas dreaded came back. The searing ache that grips his heart and the throbbing pain that filled his entire body. At once, it all came crashing back. This excruciating feeling that he felt when Chuck died, when Teresa died, when _Newt_ died.

Guilt. Sadness. Regret. Grief. Many more.

"You're dead." Thomas whispered, his voice cracking even with his effort not to. Chuck, Winston, Teresa, Newt. Everyone was dead because of him. Everyone's death was his fault. Everyone's lives were on his hands and he couldn't clutch them tightly. If only he wasn't so reckless. If only he knew that his blood could cure Newt. If only he had brought Newt faster to Brenda. If only he was stronger. If only . . . If only . . . If only . . .

"You're dead, Newt." Thomas choked out.

Newt only smiled.

They sat there in silence on the sand till the sun rise.

* * *

"We wrote your name on the memorial stone." Thomas said when he felt the familiar presence of his blonde friend appear again beside him on the beach.

Newt let out a chuckle. "Just like in the Glade, huh?"

The Glade. The start of everything and also the end of everything. The place where he met his friends when there were no memories to steady him. The place where he journeys to find the truth. The place where he freed his friends.

"Yeah, just like in the Glade." Thomas replied.

Thomas held the necklace Newt entrusted to him tightly, letter safely inside, with the rubber string dangling from his hands. The wooden tube felt cool in his palms even when he could feel the burning grains of sand under his shoes and the heat of the glaring sun up above him. Thomas wondered if Newt could feel the heat of their surroundings and his memories flew back to when they were in the Scorch.

The place where Newt told him to not give up.

The place where Newt told him that he wouldn't let Thomas give up.

The place where Newt was still alive and well.

"At the Scorch, you told me to not give up."

Newt turned his body fully to face the standing form of Thomas. Thomas didn't want to move to meet his friend's eyes.

"You told me that you won't let me give up . . ." Thomas trailed off, and he left it at that. He closed his eyes, trying to control all the emotions that were swimming free. He wasn't sure what he expected Newt to answer. It wasn't even a question. Thomas thought silence was going to be Newt's reply again when Newt's soft voice answered, "Yes."

And Thomas eyes slowly opened to meet the blonde's blue eyes. Newt was standing in front of him now, eyes understanding and trusting, and his face was so determined that Thomas felt like he was still seeing Newt alive.

"Yes, and I still won't let you, Tommy."

Thomas' clutch on Newt's necklace loosened a little.

"Yo, Thomas!"

A sudden familiar voice shouted from behind Thomas. _Minho._ Thomas turned his head back to see his friend's running form, shoes crunching the yellow sands under with a grin plastered on his face. His face was glistened with sweat, his long armed sleeves folded to the elbow and his arms covered in dirt.

"What are you doing standing there all by yourself, you shank!" Minho gleefully exclaimed as he gradually came closer.

Thomas snapped his head back to where Newt was.

He was no longer there.

* * *

"You would have loved it here, wouldn't you, Newt?"

Thomas had stopped counting how many times Newt has appeared beside him every time he stepped onto the beach. Thomas realized that the only person who could see Newt was him, the only person who could hear Newt talk was him, and the only person Newt could talk to was Thomas.

Thomas pondered if his immunity was finally lost and that he was now infected with the Flare.

The necklace Newt gave him though, was always in his hand. The rubber string was tied tightly around his right wrist. He had never let go of it, not even in his sleep. That was the one reason that made Thomas think he was actually still sane.

"Living here? Near the ocean?" Thomas continued.

Thomas could feel Newt's stare. "What makes you say that?"

The wind blew gently at them, rustling their hair and clothes. Thomas could feel the salty air clash against his skin. He gave a small sad smile to Newt. "The fact that you only seem to appear when I'm on the beach kind of proves that."

Newt blinked at Thomas for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Thomas raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in demeanor of his supposedly dead friend. The sun was just rising from its slumber, its warm bright light peeking through the horizon. Newt's face which was full of laughter seemed to glow radiantly. He seemed even more alive.

When Newt's laughter slowly fades, he let out a final light chuckle before saying, "Tommy, just because I appear only on the beach doesn't mean I would have loved living here."

"But I know you would."

"Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn't. Who knows?"

"You would know." Thomas mumbled as he went back to staring at the scenery of the morning.

"I'm dead, Tommy." Newt simply said.

"But you're here, aren't you?"

Newt didn't answer. He merely gave Thomas another one of his smiles.

* * *

"Have you ever seen the ocean, Newt?" Thomas asked one day.

"As long as I can remember, no."

"I took that from you didn't I?"

"No, Tommy, you didn't."

"I took your life away."

Newt was about to say something back before Thomas cut him off.

"I killed you." Thomas gritted out painfully _. "I took your life away."_

Thomas never heard what Newt had to say at that moment because he was already running back to his hut, away from the beach, away from _Newt_.

* * *

"What is that?" A familiar British voice that Thomas knew all too well asked from beside him after what seemed like forever. They were at a secluded part of the beach, far away from the Safe Haven. Thomas wanted to be alone with Newt for as long as he can. It had been weeks since the last time he saw Newt. He had been avoiding stepping foot onto the beach after their last interaction. He couldn't withstand the thought of seeing Newt again back then.

But now Thomas would willingly bear the pain because he missed talking to his blonde friend. His necklace was in Thomas' pocket this time. Instead, he held the last gift that Teresa had given to him.

"The cure." Thomas replied, gently sliding his thumb on the glass container of the blue liquid contained inside. The glass was cold and hard, not changing ever since Teresa handed it to him, the contents inside just the same. Thomas lifted his eyes up from the cure to look at Newt.

Newt was staring with wide eyes at the small transparent glass tube that Thomas was holding. "I can't believe it." He whispered in awe. "Is that- Is that really the cure?" Newt's eyes were still glued on the object, as if the thing Thomas was holding was the sun itself.

Thomas licked his lips and swallowed nothing before answering with a sure, "Yes."

After a minute of Newt staring at the cure on Thomas' hand, he beamed at Thomas. "A cure, Tommy! How- How'd you get it?"

"It was in my blood all along. Teresa made it."

Newt's whole form lit up like a child who was eager and very excited. "I knew it! I knew the future was in your hands, Tommy!"

Thomas felt his heart being clenched by an invisible force. The world was suddenly unclear and foreign to him. He could instantly feel the strong wind that was blowing as the sun was setting. He could immediately feel his whole body burning with something he was not accustomed to, anger and grief mixing together like nothing he has ever felt before. The waves slammed onto the beach as if encouraging him to rage in regret, embracing the feeling that was now eating him.

Thomas wanted to throw the cure away with all his strength, let it be lost to the ocean.

"You can save the world!" Newt went on.

Thomas started breathing heavily. "Newt-", he wanted to let it out.

"I can't believe this, Tommy. This crumbling world could-"

And Thomas couldn't take it anymore. He just couldn't. He cut Newt off, grabbing both of the dead boy's forearms and promptly gripping them tightly. The cure fell onto the sand, left forgotten. Thomas was trying to find strength. He needed something to steady him. He was _weak_. The revelation that Thomas could actually _touch_ Newt didn't even cross his mind.

Thomas just wanted to burst.

And he did.

"THIS IS THE CURE, NEWT!" Thomas shouted, digging his fingers into the other boy's flesh, which was still under the uniform he wore on his death. Thomas' eyes burned as hot tears were streaming down his cheeks. He stared at Newt in agony. Newt didn't look stunned.

"This is the cure, Newt." Thomas said in-between his tears. "This is the cure that could've saved you."

Thomas loosened his hold on his friend, feeling so frail that he wanted to collapse on the sand.

"If only I had known and listened to Teresa that my blood could save you. If only I had forced you to stay with Gally to get the serum or even brought you faster to Brenda. If only I could handle you properly when you were losing your mind. I could-", Thomas stopped to sob. "I could've saved you. You wouldn't have to kill yourself. We all could've saved you. Minho and Fypan wouldn't have lost you. I-"

Thomas' eyes were blurred with tears and his nose and throat flared with pain. His chest ache agonizingly at all the wild emotions rampaging inside of his body, the sadness and anger and guilt and regret and grief . . .

"You could have lived longer. You could have been happy." Thomas finally whispered with a small wounded voice.

Thomas let go of Newt's arms and let his hands fall limply at his sides. He was like a corpse, hands dangling with no strength, face pale as white and eyes filled with nothing but tears and what _could have been._

"Could have, Tommy. Could have been. It didn't happen and I bloody don't want it to."

Thomas let the words sink in and he froze. He snapped his head up in disbelief. "What-"

Newt was already staring intently at Thomas. "As I said, I don't want it to happen. I stabbed myself. I'm dead. That's it." He said simply. Thomas could hear the seriousness and the determination in Newt's voice.

"Why?" Thomas croaked out.

"Because then, all the things that _did_ happen won't matter." Newt's eyes were deeply searching understanding in Thomas. "I want to cherish what did happen, Tommy. All our memories together, all our struggles, all our laughs and jokes. If I think about what could have happened, if I think about what could have been my future, if _you_ think about what could have been my fate, then I won't be able to cherish those precious memories, Tommy. Because what _did_ happen are the memories I want to keep and love. Not the ones that didn't."

Thomas couldn't move. He could only stare back at those ocean blue eyes.

"I want what did happen to matter. I don't want to hear the bullshit of what could have happened or anything else. Your list of _'if only'_ s was hurting my bloody ears too."

Thomas was at lost for words. His tears had stopped flowing. Something inside of him felt like it had been fixed, rather messily but now intact. Something else has taken the place of his pain, and ache, something he wasn't yet sure of.

But it was a much better feeling.

"Let me cherish my life and all the memories that did happen, Tommy. I told you, didn't I? That if I could go through our adventures once again, I bloody would and I wouldn't change a thing. I'm already happy with how everything turned out. You're fine. Minho's fine. Everyone's okay now." Newt's eyes softened. "So please, Tommy, please." He grinned then, his teeth pure white. "Let me cherish my death."

As all those words were uttered out, Thomas felt another surge of the same emotion that he still couldn't describe. It wasn't acceptance, not yet, but it almost felt the same. Hearing that same phrase all over again, on this beach, at this time, with Newt looking just fine, Thomas could only nod, eyes fixed on his friend.

Not a second later, Thomas suddenly felt a crushing warmth as he realized Newt was hugging him, firmly, arms around Thomas' waist and head resting on his shoulder. Thomas closed his eyes to take in the gesture, hugging back just as tightly almost immediately.

Thomas could feel Newt's smile.

"Goodbye, mate. Thank you for always being there for me." Newt said softy.

When Thomas opened his eyes, Newt was gone.

* * *

The next day Thomas stepped onto the sand, Newt no longer appeared.

Thomas gripped the necklace wrapped loosely around his neck and looked at the horizon beyond. The cure, the world's fate, was safely kept in his pocket while his friend's memorial was clutched in his hand.

He finally breathes.


End file.
